The PA
by ZutarianNaiad
Summary: When Harry Champ continually uses the Champ Corporation as a personal ATM & neglects any responsibility for the family business, there's no real option for his father but to assign Harry a savvy personal assistant to teach him the business of business.


When Harry Champ continually uses the prestigious Champ Corporation as a personal bank account and neglects any responsibility for the family business, there's no real option for his father but to assign Harry a savvy personal assistant.

* * *

Harry stood in what he thought was a regal pose, looking at his small army of Zoids

_I'm Harry Champ. I'm a man __**destined **__to be king._

"Harry?" a robotic voice asked behind him. Harry did something which would appear to the casual observer as an impression of a neurotic cat whose tail had been set on fire, then stepped on. But casual observers were not in attendance, of course.

"_Sebastian!_ **Don't interrupt me when I'm **_**thinking**_**!**" Harry shouted, leaning down to his servant.

"Harry, one of your father's limousines is out front," Sebastian answered in a haughty tone, if any robot could be capable of a haughty tone.

"What?"

"Benjamin went down to escort the young woman who stepped out of the limousine inside," Sebastian said. "She looked like an accountant."

Harry blanched. With the bottomless pockets of the Champ Corporation, he'd learned not to be afraid of spending money. But he'd also learned as a child that the monster under the bed went to sleep dreaming of growing up to become an accountant—or worse: an auditor. Moreover, the monster under the bed grew up _scared_ of his father's internal auditors.

"My father sent an auditor _here_?" he moaned.

"She'll be up in a minute or two, if you want to start formulating your alibi," Sebastian said. "I'm going to put some tea on."

Harry straightened. _It's okay… I'm Harry Champ. No one's going to mess with the king._ Harry breathed carefully, and then turned towards the door when he heard it open.

Standing next to Benjamin was a brunette woman in a businesslike skirt and blouse, a bulging briefcase in one hand and slim attaché case in the opposite arm. She was smiling politely.

"Harry Champ. I'm Renee Sokoloff. Your father sent me," she said with little formality, still standing next to Benjamin.

"So you're the accountant?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Not when I can help it," the woman answered. "My current assignment is more in line with acting as a personal assistant."

Harry was visibly taken aback. "What are you doing here?"

"She's waiting to be seated, Harry," said Benjamin irritably. The taller robot guided the PA to the open sitting room in the middle of the hangar and she set her cases down.

"Thank you, Benjamin," she said with a polite smile. Harry saw heat waves in the air above Benjamin's head and had to stop himself from groaning out loud.

"No trouble at all!" Benjamin said enthusiastically, speeding off in the direction of the kitchen.

A moment later Benjamin rolled back up to her with a cup and saucer. "I hope mint tea is fine, Miss Sokoloff. Would you like some lemon? Milk? Sugar?" Benjamin said as Sebastian came forward with Harry's customary cup of coffee.

"Mint tea is fine, thank you," she said. Harry watched warily as she took a short sip then put her tea down and reached for her attaché case. "I'm sorry if this visit is somehow unexpected—I'm aware that one letter, one email, and one audio message were all sent from your father's office regarding my coming here, though communication problems have been known to occur in this region with the desert."

"Oh, the messages were all received," Sebastian interjected before Harry had a chance. "I have them all right here, though Harry's—"

"I would've gotten to them!" Harry protested, and the woman raised her hand.

"With that settled, I should explain. I was an undersecretary in your father's office—generally in charge of accounts and organizing events relating to your family and household. Your father had certain concerns about your establishment here in the desert, and thought I would be better suited in service to the company here. You see Harry, since you're seventeen—eighteen in a little over seven months—your father wants you to start becoming familiar with the more business-related aspects of your life."She opened the case and pulled out a rather imposing packet of papers bearing the Champ Corporation watermark.

"My family and I have an understanding," Harry said, drinking his coffee. He added five tiny spoonfuls of sugar to it. "It's agreed that I become an accomplished Zoid warrior before they pull me off to work for the company."

"And I'm not here to stand in the way of that," the PA smiled. "Really, I'm going to do what I can to expedite the process. But your father has concerns that in the process of becoming an accomplished Zoid warrior, that you would continue to treat the company like a personal ATM and neglect learning the necessary skills and information you need to in order to one day be in charge of the whole of the Champ Organization." She pulled another thick stack of papers out of her case. "This is an audit of your accounts and other expenses attributed to you and your Zoid career."

"As I understood the corporation, the things I asked were just a drop in the bucket," Harry said, eyeing the papers as though they might start shooting at him.

"The drops add up, Mr. Champ, and your father would like to be sure that you understand the exact nature of the bucket," Miss Sokoloff said, handing the audit to Sebastian and Benjamin.

"So why isn't my father here to tell me this?" Harry asked.

"There are many factors in this decision. Your father is a busy man, and he is an imposing man. If he were to approach you himself with this, he thought you may feel a bit trapped. He wanted to avoid this." Renee drained the last of her tea.

"So…"

"Harry," she said, using his name for the first time, "your father wants the best for his family and the best for the company. He cares about the future of both, and wants to make sure that when the time comes, you will be ready to take over."

"But what about my Zoid career? We had an agreement."

"Actually, your father wants to encourage your Zoid career. That's why he approved and continues to fund the Harry Champ Victory Research Institute. Until now it's been something of… well, not an extravagant hobby, but not _much_ better. You spend much more than the prize money of the matches you do win, continually paying for upgrades, ammunition, equipment, maintenance, and keeping this place lit, heated, cooled, and furnished with groceries and running water. There is a huge financial investment in your 'institute,' including the massive cost for the risky enterprise of Zoid battling, with shaky returns."

"Hey—" Harry began, an argument waiting to be said loudly in an increasingly squeaky voice.

Miss Sokoloff held up her hand again. "Mr. Champ, I'm here for business. That is a business overview of your practices so far. It's nothing but an assessment, and no insult was intended."

"So what are you going to do?" Harry asked, slightly sullen. It **was** a good argument.

"What I was assigned to do is treat this situation as I would treat any other: like it's business. It's a bit late today to start with the turnaround plan. But there are a few matters that we should examine now…" she held out a hand and Sebastian gave her back the audit.

"Like what?" Harry asked, drinking the rest of his coffee.

"About one third of your expenses are related to the Blitz Team and the Toros family," Miss Sokoloff stated, unclipping part of the audit. "Back-mounted Charged Particle Cannon, delivered to the Blitz Team, no recorded reimbursement. An army of Zoids employed in a manhunt for the Blitz Team, given in detail here: sixty Pterases, all carrying specialized equipment; two hundred fifty Sinkers; three hundred sixty Rev Raptors, and eight thousand four hundred seventy-two in sheer manpower were commissioned on rush orders overnight, and given systematic search orders to find the Blitz Team's Liger Zero. The overtime pay, private commission rates, and insurance costs in addition to the Zoid pilots' service expenses of fuel and maintenance—" Miss Sokoloff read the blank expression on Harry's face. This was, of course, all business gibberish to him. He didn't handle numbers and lists—there was always hired help to sort out the numbers. "—resulting in a cost which was more than a drop in the bucket, with no recorded payment from the Blitz Team whatsoever. And so on and so forth. Phone calls—as many as _thirty_ in one day, to the Blitz team base. Reservations for two made at expensive restaurants nearly once a month, though the meal expenses are only ever for one. Credit transactions to number of clothing stores geared toward the teenaged female demographic ." She looked up at Harry. He crossed his arms and made no reply. Miss Sokoloff breathed a short sigh and appeared to suppress the urge to roll her eyes.

"Please don't misunderstand me, Mr. Champ. I _am_ here for business, but I understand that a businessman—particularly a _young_ businessman's personal life affects his decisions. Before I came here your sister made quite certain to speak to me on the subject of Leena Toros. Apparently your sister Mary has a low opinion of the girl. Your father is merely concerned how much money you spend on her and your mother refuses to form an opinion on someone she has never met…"

_Ah, dear sweet Mother, _Harry thought._ I've got to send her flowers._

"…especially not with an unaccounted-for order in the Champ books for a 5.68 karat diamond ring from Allen Haig Jewelers and Associates. Incidentally, a warranty was not purchased with the ring, though Allen Haig and Associates was more than willing to negotiate with your mother to purchase the warranty on the ring separately." Harry sat up straighter. Miss Sokoloff smiled. "As for Mary Champ—your sister does not understand business and I am not concerned with her opinions." Harry didn't relax, but made an effort to look like he had. "Goals are important, Harry, and so is drive. If something in or about this team motivates you, then that solves very many problems. And I promise that many of the skills required in the business world are assets in almost any social situation."

"So… what are you saying?"

"I'm a personal assistant, Harry. I'm here to help. I can teach you a lot of the skills you need by helping you with your Zoids, your business skills, and your social interactions, and there's no sense in trying to hinder motivation. And besides—what your sister doesn't know, especially about shiny bits of expensive jewelry and girls from the desert, won't hurt her."

A repertoire of lines clamored for first place in Harry's brain. "This looks like the beginning of a beautiful partnership," he said with a grin, raising his mug.

"A profitable partnership," Miss Sokoloff said, lifting her refilled teacup to her lips.

…

Harry waited with Sebastian in the sitting room as Benjamin showed Miss Sokoloff to her room.

"What do you think, Sebastian?" he asked the robot.

"She seems refreshingly… sensible," Sebastian answered. Harry thought his servant sounded like he was avoiding saying something else.

"And my father's motives? What do you think my dad is really looking for out of this?"

"I think your father wants to turn an expense into a profit," Sebastian answered. "It's like she says—your father is concerned with investment and return."

Harry fell silent and a moment later Benjamin returned, a bit of spring in his glide as he rolled up to Harry.

"You seem happy," Harry commented in an irritable tone.

"Hm? What? Oh… it's just the weather," Benjamin said. Harry almost snorted.

"Well, we need to form a plan," Harry said, thinking aloud. "Let's see…"

"Harry, why do we need a plan? She's only here to help," Benjamin interjected.

"We can't let her get carried away," Harry said. "It all sounds good right now, but if she really starts trying to _change_ things…"

"She'll be changing them for the better," Sebastian finished.

"Why don't we just let things be tonight, and see how they turn in the morning, all right?" Sebastian said.

"All right," Harry agreed, standing. Benjamin was silent.

* * *

At the Blitz Team base, there was a din of general, companionable, and slightly violent chaos. The team had had their first S-Class match declared right before dinner, and such news was perhaps not best handled on empty and then rapidly filled stomachs. It contributes to dishumor, which for certain overdramatic members of the Blitz Team could easily translate from dishumor to dissonant hilarity. Most of the excitement had to do with going up against the all-female Siren Team in less than a month. Personalities clashed, tempers flared, and in the midst of it all the team strategist wondered when he would have a moment of peace to analyze their first S-Class opponents.

* * *

A/N: I know I shouldn't keep posting new stories until I finish a few that I already have… Well, at least I've got a couple chapters prewritten. I very much hope you all enjoy. This was more written out of the fact that I see a disparaging lack of Harry Champ on this site. I have no idea if I'm writing him right (a mix of oblivious confidence, a tendency to be overly dramatic, and harmlessly self-absorbed). It'll get harder to write once the Blitz Team comes to interact with them all…

As to shipping, I honestly don't have anything concrete planned except that Miss Sokoloff will not be involved with any canon characters. And that engagement ring (the one large enough to bludgeon a medium-sized wildcat) won't be mentioned again for some time.

Thank you all for reading, and I cannot emphasize enough just how much I value reviews.

In Christ,

ZN


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